


Wishes of Silver

by Rabbitafy



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabbitafy/pseuds/Rabbitafy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devastated by the death of Marshall Lee, Prince Gumball makes a wish to Prismo to see him once more. But Prismo's gifts always come with a twist...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The boy with the secret

__

_I figured you’d be here eventually. Saw it coming. So…_

_What is your wish?_

_A deep breath in, tears streaming down a pale pink face._

“I want to see him again.”

* * *

Shrieks flew through the air, high-pitched and deafening, as a figure dressed heavily rushed through the cover of the snow-capped trees.

Heavy breaths left his lips, but he couldn’t stop. No, to stop was to be caught… and if they caught him, he was worse than dead.

There was nothing for him in their hands but suffering.

There was a wisp of smoke some ten feet in front of him, flying out from the trees, causing him to slide to a stop. Without wasting a moment to question, he turned on his heel and headed in a different direction, hoping that they wouldn’t be smart enough to follow.

What a stupid thing to hope for.

They were gaining on him and he knew it, their horrid shrieks filling the space around him. Soon enough they would be closing in on him and then what? Would he be forced to give in? Would he be forced to surrender and face the fate that was pushed upon him?

No. He would take his own life before he allowed himself to be captured, no matter who suffered from his death. They didn’t matter, with their wishes and hopes placed on his un-wanting shoulders. Serves them right for putting their hope in a child.

There was a yell, suddenly. Not a shrill, but more of a gasp. Not one of them, no… but an innocent who had somehow got themselves caught up in a mess they had no business being a part of.

_It’s a trap_ , his mind told him. _They’re luring you._ All of his senses told him to fight it, but somehow he still found himself turning around, heading toward the sound.

There was a tall form lying in the snow, dressed in wine red and shivering. He didn’t have a chance to bother wondering about it, however, as he spared the form’s legs one quick glance to asses their running ability, before he grabbed hold of a thin wrist and pulled the other to their feet.

The moment of confusion was cut short as a wisp of black smoke gained on them, nearly biting at their heels. The person behind him might have shouted something but he offered no response, ducking to the right as another cloud appeared to his left. A third cut him off and then a forth, the forms surrounding him.

Ah, so it _had_ been a trap.

The wisps began to take shape, earning a gasp from the figure as they gathered closer. He gripped his trusted crossbow tightly, knowing full well that against four of them it was naught but useless. There was only one way out of this if he wanted to save the innocent but he knew it would eventually draw more.

No doubt that was the plan.

Gritting his teeth together as the figures began to approach, smoke trailing from their dark-clad forms, he pushed the innocent behind himself and threw his weapon to his feet. Almost instantly, the attackers recoiled, knowing what was to come and resisting the urge to flea in fear. At least his reputation preceded him.

It took only an instant, but the intensity was as it always had been. A blast of unconscious power, letting off a gust of movement that made his clothes and hair ripple. It was still difficult to aim, but with his hand on the innocent they were practically free from harm, unless the intent was to harm himself (which he could, if he wanted, but that would have defeated the purpose). In seconds where the smoky forms had once been were smears of blood, painted across the snow in a display of red.

For a few moments there was stillness, before the pain came.

The form behind him let out a gasp as he felt something cold trickle down from his nose. As it hit his lips he tasted blood and found himself cursing, the world spinning around him.

“…Marshall?” He heard before he hit the ground and the world became black.

* * *

They were bitter bastards. High up on their horses, so to speak, with snide smirks and disgusted glances. Even the peasants looked upon him with distain, like he was dirt beneath their feet…

So why was this one peering down at him in concern?

He had to admit, he was impressed with this Celestial. Somehow, this one had found his cabin and brought him back there, putting him in his bed and starting a fire. It was a rather amazing feat, considering they did very little for themselves without a Shade to rise to their every whim.

This one seemed different, however, peering at him with eyes that held such _emotion_ , something he’d never seen before. It was one of those off-pink haired ones, the rarer kind, with a pair of violet eyes and tanned skin. Tall, too, which was impressive as well.

“Marshall?” The young man called as he started to sit up, reaching out toward him. He immediately stopped, however, as he was fixed with a cold gaze. His hand dropped onto the bed, like dead weight. “Thank glob, you’re alive…”

Ah, a fan. His name had been passed around from lip to lip, though why a Celestial used it so informally was beyond him. They were few and far between, his fans, at least on the crystal side of things, and it had been some time since he’d met one.

Bright eyes were filling with tears as the other stared openly at him, his shoulders shaking. A sudden sob left his lips before his face fell into his hands, cries slipping from his form.

What a weird guy. Carefully, he found himself sizing the weeping man up, his entire body tense.

They must have nabbed him from somewhere off in the distance, because he certainly wasn’t dressed for the ice and snow that surrounded them. His wine-colored garments clung to his thin, lanky form and offered little in the way of warmth. It was likely he was freezing, yet he had piled the blankets upon the other’s body, leaving himself uncovered.

“I… I’m sorry,” The stranger mumbled as he wiped at his eyes, a smile upon his sad face. “I’m just… I’m happy to see you.”

How confusing. A frown crossed his lips and he eyed the room, making sure his precious crossbow was close. And she was, lying beside him on the bedside table, her quiver beside her. Feeling a touch safer, he turned his gaze toward the man before him once more.

“Who are you?” He found himself asking, earning a shocked, if not horrified look from the other.

“I-I…” The man gasped, a hand flying to his lips in a delicate display. Definitely a Celestial, with their overly dramatic movements. He seemed to realize something in that moment, his shock giving way to a heart-broken smile as he choked back another round of sobs. That was rather odd, since most on the crystal side would have preferred to wail their woes until they were catered on. “Oh, I understand.” He gave a solid nod, before he wrapped his arms around his thin middle. “My name is… My name is Bubba. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You are…?”

His gaze narrowed, peering hard at this strange man. Bubba? It certainly wasn’t a name he’d heard before.

“You already said my name,” He reminded, making that smile grow, if possible, even sadder. “So you must have already known it.”

“…I suppose I did,” Came the vague response as the lanky man turned away, his eyes downcast.

He was young, maybe eight teen, but then again who was he to talk? He was barely sixteen and yet he’d seen enough of the world to know that age only mattered to those who wanted to look down on you for it.

With a heavy sigh, Marshall shrugged the blanket off of his front and reached out, wrapping it around the pinkish-haired man in one quick swoop. Bright eyes lifted to gaze at him in surprise and a sort of adoration that made him sick to his stomach. Letting out a deep breath, he out gathered himself out of bed and crossed the small cottage, moving over to the fire.

Bubba watched him intensely as he messed with the kindling to heat the flames for a moment, before he began to shift through the drawers of his dresser.

“You must be freezing…” He found himself sighing, sparing a glance back at the Celestial. “Come over here, I’ll see if I can find you something to wear.”

Rising from the beside, Bubba laid the blanket down and crossed the room, approaching him. He watched the other silently, trying to gauge his stature to see if anything he had even _would_ fit. The other was nearly half a head taller, with long legs and a thin waist… His pants would be short, but a good pair of boots would fix that.

Gathering up a few things, Marshall stuffed them into the other’s arms before he crossed the room once more, grabbing his weapon. “Dress quickly,” He ordered as he stuffed as many extra arrows as his quiver could hold into the carrier, before shouldering it. “They’ll come soon and we need to be gone before they do.”

“They?” The pinkish haired man replied, thankfully not bothering with Celestial-priss as he kicked off his wine-colored clothing and replaced them with the dark, fur-trimmed clothes he had been offered. “The smoke-people that were chasing you?”

Stopping in mid-movement, he felt his entire body tense. Slowly, his gaze turned toward the man standing opposite him, an innocent look of confusion on his young face.

It was a simple enough question, he supposed, but the honesty behind it was what baffled him. There was not a Celestial in existence who had not heard of the Shade, not in all of Elysium.

Narrowing his gaze at the man before him, Marshall moved without warning. He crossed the room in an instant, one hand fisting the front of the other’s jacket and the other holding an arrow at the ready, the tip against the pinkish-haired man’s throat.

“You aren’t from this world, are you?” He inquired and instantly the other man let out a gasp of surprise, his eyes wide with alarm. For a few moments they held each other’s gaze intensely, a world of emotion displayed in those violet orbs that Marshall’s own teal ones could not decipher, before the younger boy slowly let out a breath and released his captive.

“…No, I’m not,” The taller admitted in little more than a pathetic squeak, his shoulders shaking.

“I thought not,” Came the sigh as the paler boy ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it away from his fair skin. “As much as I’d love to sit here and pick apart your story, they really will be here soon, so we need to move quickly. There’s a town not far from here, we can hide there. They won’t expect me to be amongst people so it’s our best bet.”

With a thousand questions on his face, Bubba gave nothing but a nod as he watched the other put out the fire and move through the front door without a single glance back.

* * *

They didn’t speak during the trip to Jardi, the small town just hours from his cabin. Bubba had no complains in him, which only proved the fact that as much as he looked like a Celestial, he was far from one.

There was a question on his face, however, as they slowed down just outside the town’s entrance and Marshall reached up, pulling his hood up.

“I have dark hair,” he tried to explain as he pushed his bangs from view, the other’s bright eyes gazing at him in confusion. “I don’t know about where you come from, but here, dark hair is a sign of a Shade.” Sparing a glance toward Bubba’s wondering face, he let out a breath. “A slave, if you will.”

“Slavery…” the pinkish-haired man mumbled, as if disgusted by the idea. Definitely _not_ on the crystal side.

“You’ve got the hair and eyes of a Celestial,” The other continued, motioning to the up-turned locks atop the other’s head. “Which means in the very least, if I’m revealed, you can simply claim I belong to you.”

His companion looked completely horrified, but Marshall didn’t wait around to sulk in that fact. He started toward the town, hearing the taller boy follow him after a few moments.

His pursuers wouldn’t expect him to be amongst people and wouldn’t risk it themselves, either. At least with Bubba’s appearance he had a safer place, surrounded by innocents. A Celestial with a companion was certain to attract less attention than a man wearing a hood at all times.

“Whatever you do,” He mumbled under his breath as they slipped under the entranceway to the city. “Don’t say my name.”

Frowning, the taller man gave no response.

Jardi was a little village, with a butcher and an inn, but not much else. Most of the main streets were made up of small one room houses with families packed inside.

Despite what he’d told Bubba about his own hair, the place was made up of Shades. There wasn’t a Celestial alive that would willingly live somewhere so cold, but to walk into town without a ‘master’ was just begging for trouble. There was a target on his head and one glance at him meant an army that he didn’t want to deal with.

Still, he felt a bit bad for lying to the light-haired man.

All eyes were on them as they approached the inn, a tiny little two-story place with naught but three rooms to offer up, from what he could tell. Bubba thankfully seemed to get the idea as they entered and he requested a room for the night, which Marshall paid for with the little money he had managed to gather.

Once they were safely behind the closed door, the stranger turned toward him, a pout on his face that was almost refreshing with its child-like flair.

“This entire town is made up of ‘Shades’,” Bubba informed, pointing out the obvious by way of making his point. “You’re hiding for another reason.”

Instead of responding, Marshall crossed the room, taking a seat on the two-person bed as he removed his hood. He laid his crossbow beside himself, within reach, before lifting his teal eyes toward the other. “Tell me,” He found himself addressing instead of offering an answer to the other’s statements. “How is it you came to know my name?”

These words seemed to sober the taller man up, his shoulders tensing as he turned his gaze away. A fresh wave of tears filled his violet eyes and for a moment, it almost seemed as if he would break into sobs once more.

“…In my world,” He finally offered after a few moments of strained breath. “We knew each other. We were… good friends. But…”

“I died,” The dark-haired young man found himself finishing, the thought lost on him for a moment. It was a foreign concept, really… a form from another world, claiming to have been friends with him. Yet it seemed all too real to the man before him and if he hadn’t witnessed the other’s sincerity himself, he would have passed him off as a liar. “Is that why you came here?”

Bubba frowned deeply for a moment, before he slowly began to cross the room, watching his companion with careful eyes. When he didn’t move, the tall man took a slow seat beside him on the bed, the cross-bow between them. “…Yes,” He admitted after a long pause, his eyes downcast. “I had to see you again.”

Letting out a slow breath, Marshall turned his gaze toward the cracked window that the room had to offer. “Good friends, huh…” He muttered, his fingers reaching out to trace over his weapon almost fondly. The words earned him a heavy, strained breath from the older. “You get yourself lost in other worlds for all your good friends…?”

“Marshall…” Came the response, whispered in a tone that held such longing, such sorrow that the dark-haired man found himself on his feet, pacing across the floor.

For a few moments the younger stood before the window, peering down at the streets as children pushed a ball around, laughing and enjoying themselves as their parents watched after them. So happy, so free of what the world really was beyond their small little town…

“You may have known me then, Bubba,” He finally found himself mumbling after a long pause, sounding far more cold then he was sure the other expected. There was no place for warmth in this world and the sooner the light-haired man learned that, the better. “But he and I are two separate people. If you want someone with my face to love you like he did, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

There was silence for some time, stretching between them like a vast sea. Then, quietly, the older man let out a slow breath, his voice heavy as he spoke. “That isn’t why I came here,” he explained, sincerely. “Just seeing you is enough. Hearing your voice is more than I could have asked for.”

Teal eyes slowly trailed from the window to fall upon the other, whose own were downcast. For a few moments, Marshall took in the man before him, reading the heartbreak in his every movement.

He couldn’t imagine where the pinkish-haired man was coming from. He knew nothing of love, nothing of a feeling so intense that he would be willing to cross worlds for someone… but this form before him, this young man wise beyond his years… somehow he had come to love so deeply that he had traveled through _worlds_ just for the chance to lay his eyes upon the one he cared for once more.

And who was he to deny this man his wish?

With a heavy sigh, the dark-haired man traversed the room once more, approaching his sorrowful companion with his head held high. As Bubba looked up toward him, he towered over the man’s sitting form, gazing down at him in hopes that his eyes would portray the intensity that he felt.

“If we’re going to stay together,” Marshall addressed, simply. “Then there are some things you are going to need to know.”

For a moment, the older man stared up at him in shock. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his tear-stained face and he gave a solid nod. “Alright.”


	2. The death of the undead

“Celestials have light hair and eyes. They are the men in charge around here, so to speak. They’re extravagant and elegant, but a little- hmm… conceded? They have high opinions of themselves and they’re far too prissy to do anything other than be waited on hand and foot by a Shade.”

“All of them are like that?”

“Everyone that I’ve seen, anyways.”

Bubba leaned in as his companion drew a second figure beside the first, coloring in this one’s hair with his charcoal, marking him as what the older man assumed was a ‘Shade’.

“Shades have dark hair and eyes,” Marshall explained, not missing other’s eyes as they trailed to his face. “They’re considered dirt, pretty much, in most cities. The ones that _aren’t_ slaves live in towns like this one, in climates that the Celestials would never dream of coming to. They don’t travel, they don’t leave… a Shade walking alone is asking to be captured and sold into slavery. Also…” Slowly, teal eyes turned toward his own, catching him mid-stare. “Please don’t stare at my face. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Err… sorry,” Came the offered response as he pulled his eyes back toward the parchment the other had rolled out on the floor.

“Celestials have the ability to heal wounds and illnesses,” The dark-haired boy went on, using the charcoal to draw a circle around the light-haired stick-figure. “That’s probably why they think so highly of themselves, really. It’s just a natural gift, though if they bother using it is beyond me. Perhaps if they fall ill but it isn’t as if they get wounded and they certainly wouldn’t help an injured Shade.”

“You don’t think highly of them, I see,” The older man said, a frown in his voice.

“They haven’t given me a reason to,” Came the response. Marshall began to sketch a small figure, a little box with a pointed top. “They’re commonly referred to as the ‘crystal side’. Crystals reflect light, after all. Since you look like one, you’ll have to act like one.”

Bubba let out a small gasp, as if the very idea horrified him. “Act like a slave owner?”

“Act like an overly-dramatic priss,” His companion corrected, sparing the older a glance. “Or really, like a Prince, if you will. Did you have Princes in your world?”

There was a distant look in the other’s violet eyes for a moment, before he gave a slow nod. “I think I can manage that,” He admitted rather meekly, before swiftly changing the subject. “Tell me more about the Shades.”

Deciding to let sleeping demons lie, the younger man turned back toward the drawing, before he began to draw a cloud-like shape around the dark-haired figure. “Shades have the ability to transport themselves quickly over short distances, using that smoke-like form that you saw before. They are invulnerable when they do so, but their blood is thin and they bleed out quickly when injured. They are quick, however, so you want to avoid combat with one if you can. Their screams are more like shrieks, too. Usually, they’re called the Onyx side.”

He felt those violet eyes on him again as he drew an oval next to the Shade drawing, representing the stone.

“You have dark hair,” Bubba pointed out, seeming to miss as Marshall’s shoulders tensed beside him. “Yet the Shades were after you.”

“They were,” He replied, offering no other explanation as he pushed the drawing to the side and stood. Thankfully, his companion didn’t think to pursue the conversation. “We should rest while we can. When the sun goes down, we’ll leave. The cover of night will help us get away safely.”

The light-haired man gave a nod, watching as the younger boy climbed beneath the blankets. They both offered no words as he followed, lying with their backs to one another.

Quickly enough, the older was asleep, almost seeming eased by Marshall’s position by his side. The dark-haired man couldn’t seem to rest as easily, however, his mind burdened by the presence of the form beside him.

It had been difficult enough, hiding himself from the eyes of both sides. A companion would complicate things, make him easier to catch… he doubted this Celestial look-alike knew much in the way of being quick-footed and even less about combat, should it come down to that. On top of that, now he had to worry about food for another, and he doubted the other would be content with the near-starvation he had put himself through.

This man was a hindrance, a burden to his way of life… he had no doubt that he had just pulled himself closer to being captured by allowing the other to stay with him, but…

There was just something about this man, with his whispers of other words and memories of them being together, that captivated him. He felt the need to protect this stranger, a deep-seeded need that he’d never felt before. He’d rescued innocents before, but always sent them on their way, dropping them off at the nearest town before leaving them behind.

But Bubba was… different. And not just his story, but something about him made Marshall’s cold heart warm just a little, if only because this stranger seemed to know and respect his boundaries without having to be told.

Eventually, he managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep, his shoulders heavy with the fear of being captured and what it would entitle.

What would the Shades do with his companion if they were both grabbed?

* * *

_There was a sea of sunlight outside of the window, yet he stood deep within the quarters, peering out upon the forms of tiny houses that circled the land inside of a large wall._

_So bright, the world around him… so full of color… yet he saw only dark. Only emptiness._

_There was a voice calling out to him, calling his name… yet it was the name of another. A foreign name._

_This world was nothing but death, hidden behind a mask of happiness. That was what the whole of existence was._

_That’s what it would always be._

Blinking his teal eyes open, Marshall immediately noticed the beginnings of sunset spilling in through the window. Of course, he always seemed able to tell himself exactly when to awaken, without knowing why. It was a lucky ability, he supposed, considering how he spent his life.

After a few moments, he came to realize the rising and falling of his pillow and his body went still, eyes gazing upward, into the face of his companion. Still fast asleep, Bubba was lying on his back with one arm wrapped around the smaller form, who slept in the crook of his arm like he belonged there.

Had they wound up that way in sleep? He doubted the other would have maneuvered him there… no, he would have awoken at the slightest touch, yet somehow he found himself in such a position with a man he barely knew. How had that happened?

Carefully, the dark-haired man rose from the bed, trying not to awaken the older man. Unfortunately, it seemed Bubba was as light a sleeper as he himself, as he stirred immediately and popped open his violet eyes.

“It’s time to go,” The younger informed, gathering up his crossbow and shouldering his quiver.

The other was on his feet a moment later, fixing his clothes and standing at the ready. With one glance in his direction, Marshall pulled up his hood and started off, hoping the streets would be empty.

And they were, however the inn’s entrance was not.

They’d come in hoards, awaiting his decent from the room above. How long had they waited there, piles of bread and dried meat clenched in their hands, hope in their eyes? Bubba looked awed as they parted, looks of wonder upon their faces as Marshall gave a weak sigh and removed his hood slowly.

“The Silver Prince…” Someone amongst the crowd whispered in awe. “The rightful King…” A frown crossed the young man’s face as slowly, one by one, the people around him began to bow. His companion turned confused eyes toward him, but said nothing as they continued to inch their way toward the exit.

“Please,” A voice called, catching his attention. Teal eyes turned downward as a young girl reached out, taking hold of his free hand. Her onyx eyes gazed up at him, pleading… hoping. “Won’t you take some food, Your Majesty?”

A frown crossed his face and he slowly lifted his gaze as the people around him held up their offerings, tears filling their dark eyes.

For once in his life, Marshall felt torn. Never before had he taken offered gifts from those who called him King, yet now he had to think for two. Behind him, Bubba stood confused and perhaps hungry, or he would be soon. Despite his light hair and eyes, the people around paid him no mind, having no fear for a man their chosen one deemed worthy.

His fingers shaking, the dark-haired boy slowly reached out, one by one retrieving a piece from every offering. It would be disrespectful to take from only one, he supposed. By the end, his pockets were stuffed full with dried meat and bread, enough to keep them fed for two weeks if they portioned it well. All eyes were on them as he practically ran from the inn, his companion on his heels.

Bubba said nothing as they disappeared from town, leaving it far behind them. For that, he was far more thankful then he could ever say… he was embarrassed and he knew his slip-up would bring them closer to capture.

They could only walk so far before they were forced to stop and make camp, a quick gather of dry wood making a fire. Bubba consumed a single roll but refused some meat, one stern look forcing Marshall to do the same. Soon enough they found themselves seated in the dark before the flames, the silence between them comfortable as they both gazed into the crackling heat before them.

“How did I die?” The words tumbled out of his lips so suddenly that the younger man was surprised by them. Had he even been wondering such things? He supposed he had, but the thoughts were not fresh on his mind. Slowly, he lifted his teal eyes, catching the other’s violet ones. “In your world?”

Bubba’s lips quivered for a moment as he dragged his eyes to his lap, his shoulders hunched. Slowly, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, a defensive moment, as if he wanted to curl away from the memories.

“…In my world,” the pinkish-haired man whispered, the heartbreak clawing at his voice and features as one. “You were a Vampire. An… immortal being. You were over a thousand years old-” He missed the breath that his companion let out of disbelief. “And you had seen death many times. You’d become… cold. Closed off.”

That sounded familiar.

“You were used to people dying,” Bubba went on, playing idly with the laces on his boots to keep his hands distracted. “But then you met me and I… I couldn’t die either. Well, actually, that isn’t true… I was mortal, yet I had discovered the secret to immortality, but only for my own benefit.

“At first, the two of us were at odds; I disliked your immoral, care-free attitude and you didn’t agree with my so-called ‘stuck up’ ways. We lived for decades at odds, until…” He sucked in a deep, pained breath. “Until _she_ came along.”

Marshall found himself sighing. Leave it to a woman to make things more complicated.

“Her name was Fionna,” The older (by many years, apparently) man explained, running a hand through his hair almost uncomfortably. “And she was the last of her kind. She was… she was stupid, but compassionate, and she united us with her friendship. She showed us more about each other than we had ever seen and… We fell for each other.

“But Fionna was not immortal, like we were. She grew, married, had children… and then… she died.”

The dark-haired boy let out a slow breath, resisting the urge to reach out and lay a gentle hand on his companion’s shoulder. Bubba was lost in his own words, it was possible he would not appreciate the gesture, especially from the very person he was missing most at that moment.

Letting out a shaky breath, the older man removed the hand from his hair and slowly laid it over his eyes, trying to block out the images that went along with his words. “You were devastated,” He continued, his voice cracking as he did so. “She wasn’t like the other people you’d lost so long ago. She was your closest friend, your _best_ friend, and seeing her go… it made you feel as if life had nothing more to offer. As if there was nothing more to living then to eventually die.

“I don’t know if you know what a Vampire is, but they are extremely allergic to sunlight. Just a touch of it can burn their skin in an instant with greater power than any fire. You knew that… of course, how couldn’t you? Yet you stood on the horizon as the sun began to rise and I-” Finally, the taller man broke, letting out a strangled sob. His shoulders began to shake as he lifted his other hand and buried his face into his palms. “I was too late, I-… I watched as you burned to nothing but ash before my eyes…”

The soft cries filled the air after his words had finished, but the younger man felt deaf. What an end to meet after such a long life… He couldn’t imagine letting himself burn alive over a friend, but he supposed he and this other being were two entirely different people. Perhaps they shared a similar face, but their likenesses ended there.

Yet it broke his heart, watching the other cry into his hands like that, longing over someone he could never see again. It pained him like nothing had before… not the deaths of innocents or the abandonment of his mother. This simple man, this person from another world, brought out something in him that he’d never felt before.

Slowly, Marshall reached out, laying a gentle hand upon the other’s cheek. Violet eyes gazed down at him in surprise, tear-stained and shiny, with fine lashes and heart-break etched into his features. Yet there was a hint of something there… a look of light in the dark. A gaze that begged for a truth behind his actions.

What was it about this kind stranger that pulled him in? He had never cared about contact before, yet for some reason he found himself leaning in, pressing shaking lips against gasping ones. Somehow, he wasn’t resisting as long arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a warm lap, somehow making his body heat up despite the cold.

The older cradled his head as he laid back, the other’s tall form above him, their lips locked. There was an intense feeling, deep in his stomach, burning him from the inside out… but it felt _good_. Every kiss made it seer and as the other man’s fingers slipped beneath his coat, touching his bare skin, a whine left his lips and he felt a _need_ like no other.

More. He wanted _more_! He wanted more of the other man’s touch, of his kisses, of his… his _everything_. It was a longing he’d never felt before, yet in that very moment, it seemed so… _familiar_.

His thoughts from then on were empty, his body completely driven by desire. He didn’t even feel the cold as those fingers slid beneath the hem of his pants, the heat of the other man’s body enough to burn his sensitive skin. No words were on his lips, his breath heavy and gasping. He barely heard as the older whispered his name but deep in his mind he knew the word was meant for someone else.

Such things could be thought about at another time.

He’d never felt anything like the sensations the other was arising in him before, their bodies pressed together and fingers on him like nothing else he’d ever known. Lips were against his once more and all he could feel was heat, intense and blinding.

By the time the passion peaked and their bodies were tangled on the ground, Bubba was gently stroking his hair, a cheek resting against his forehead and soft breaths in his ear.

“…Why do they call you the rightful King?” The older finally asked as the sun began to rise in the sky, his voice distant. No doubt trying to erase the pained memories of old with new, curious ones.

Marshall let out a breath through his nose, letting his eyes close for a moment. They would need to move soon, he knew the Onxy army would be moving at any moment… yet he couldn’t bring himself to rise from the comforting arms of his companion. “To tell you that,” He mumbled. “There are many other things I must tell you.”

“I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” Came his reply as the light-haired man turned to press a kiss to his forehead.

With a deep breath, the younger let the tension fall from his shoulders. He couldn’t remember ever speaking his own story aloud… after all, those around him had already heard it and he wasn’t around anyone long enough to speak.

“For as long as it’s been known,” He began, clutching the fur of the other’s coat in loose fingers. “Celestials and Shades have never conceived a child together. It was thought to be impossible, but… Well…” He lifted his head to glance up at the taller man, looking into curious, sad eyes. “I was born of both bloods.”

“I had wondered,” Bubba admitted. “Dark hair and light eyes.”

“My mother was a slave to the royal family,” Marshall explained, turning his gaze away once more. It did not pain him to speak of the woman who had raised him in the shadows, having felt little love for her as she cursed his existence every day of her life. “The Prince used her freely. He was a wild man, who cared not for taking a wife, and he bedded many a Shade in his time, but…” He frowned. “Somehow, she bore a child.

“They cast her out, thinking she had slept with another slave, and she was given to a poorer family that cared little for her like the royals had done. Kept as slaves as the Shades are in the palace, they are still treated better than any other Shade in Elysium.

“When I was born, she hid my existence. Kept me from the eyes of others, afraid that she would be slaughtered if people were to learn that I was born of both. But I didn’t like being in one place, so I snuck away often, and… before I knew it, a reputation had followed me. The Shade army, the last of the freedom fighting Onyx, heard about me. From my mother’s own lips they learned of my heritage and by then, the Prince had become a King…” There was a pause as he remembered memories he’d long since pushed away. “…The ‘Silver Prince’, they called me. Then they begged my mother to leave me in their hands and… she did.”

Frowning, Marshall let out a slow breath. It had been a long time since he’d thought of these things and yet they still seemed fresh in his mind.

“For four years I lived with them,” He continued, watching as the snow-covered ground around them changed colors while the sun rose. “They trained me, conditioned me to fight… That’s where I got my crossbow and where I learned to shoot it. But they were cruel, taking innocent Celestials and slaughtering them like cattle… and they wanted me to kill the King, my father, to take my supposedly ‘rightful’ place as his heir. His _only_ heir.”

Bubba was frowning down at him now, his fingers having stopped their stroking and instead resting on the back of his neck, warming his skin.

“They expected me to do it…” The dark-haired boy whispered, lost in his own words as he stared, eyes glazed, at the fur of the other man’s jacket. “I was only ten at the time. Still innocent… They brought me to the palace, snuck me in… put the crossbow in my hands and told me to shoot…” He frowned, letting his eyes slip closed. “ _End the suffering_ , they said… As if a boy taking over for a king would solve anything. Did they expect a council of Celestials to listen to the bastard child of their grace? Especially one whose blood was muddy… They were fools. They thought I could free the Shades, end slavery… But I couldn’t. And I couldn’t bring myself to kill him.”

He fell silent for a few moments and his companion didn’t speak, the steady sound of his breath comfort enough. A good listener, indeed.

“I ran,” Marshall finally admitted, his fingers tightening in the fur beneath them. “I used that power, the one you witnessed when we first met… I used it to kill the men with me and I ran. Then I kept running, for six years. They chased me, though… they figured out how to track me down whenever I use that ability and they’ve been on my heels ever since.”

Eventually, Bubba let out a slow breath and leaned in, pressing his lips against the younger man’s brow once more.

“You were nothing but a child,” He whispered as he pressed a cheek against the other’s face, his long lashes tickling the fair skin beside them. “And expecting something like that out of a child is something only a fool would do.”

The dark-haired boy let out a slow breath, letting his own eyes slip shut. Somehow, his acquaintance knew exactly what to say… he’d wanted no apologies, no _I can’t believe that happened to you_ … no, all he’d wanted was to know he was right, to know those men were idiots to put their faith in a kid.

“It’s time to move,” He found himself replying, getting to his feet swiftly and reaching for the other. “We’ve lingered too long, we-”

“Marshall!” Bubba cried, but it was too late. The hands were already on his wrists, pinning them sharply behind his back, as smoky figures moved around to haul his companion to his feet.

“Don’t harm him!” The dark-haired boy found himself shrieking immediately as the black-clad men held the other tightly, eyeing him with disgust. “If you lay a single scratch on him I’ll kill you all!”

The men instantly stilled, turning to peer at him with masked fear in their eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty,” One of them stated as they both released the light-haired man, who gaped openly at them.

“With all due respect, My Grace,” The man holding Marshall addressed, twisting his arm a bit harder. “We have orders to return you to Lord Ombra. If you should refuse, we were told to kill the Celestial.”

“He’s no Celestial!” The teal-eyed boy hissed, his teeth clenched. He let out a slow breath, then, and felt his shoulders fall.

Defeat. They had finally defeated him. Trapped him in a corner he couldn’t escape from. They had leverage now… something to hold against him. And they would.

“Fine,” Marshall whispered, coming to realize that he had made a grave mistake in letting the pink-haired stranger into his heart. “I’ll come.”

It was a mistake that he felt no regret for.


	3. A rightful heir

The city of Nilal was far too warm for the heavy winter jackets they had been dressed in, but they weren’t given the chance to shrug them off. The journey was made quick by way of Shade transportation, a ladder of soldiers aligned to lead them to their destination.

Several hundred eyes were upon them as they were lead through the streets of the city, gazes intense, both of loyalty and distain. Nilal was the capital of the Onyx, a city below ground, with stone structures and dirt floors. It was well hidden from the eyes of the Celestials, who dare not dirty their lungs with the musky air.

They were not in chains, but they may as well have been, with how many men surrounded them. Truth be told, Marshall felt like they were prisoners, even though he knew their captors would say otherwise.

Ombra’s gaze was as cold as ever as they stepped into his tent, leering down at him just like he had all those years before. He hadn’t changed much; dark hair slicked back away from a square face, a scar across his left temple. His dark eyes glanced over Bubba for a few moments, before they turned to Marshall and he waved a hand. “Why so hostile? This is our King. Give him some breathing room.”

The men surrounding them stepped away, giving short bows, then disappearing from the room.

It seemed that the light-haired man at Marshall’s side could sense the tension, because he remained silent with his shoulders stiff and his gaze shifting between the large general and the young boy he called his majesty.

“You must be hot,” The large man stated as he crossed the room, taking a seat upon a plush sofa they had probably stolen from a family they’d murdered. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Marshall replied, though he gave Bubba a nod to say he could remove his jacket if he needed. His response was a          quick shake of the head before both of their gazes returned to Ombra.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” The large man stated, ignoring their distaste as he poured three glasses of water and placed them on the table in front of him. “I am Ombra, leader of the Onyx rebellion. And you are?”

“Not to be harmed,” The so-called Prince cut in sharply, resisting the urge to take a step in front of his friend.

The man’s eyebrows quirked and he gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Whatever pleases My Grace,” He stated, giving a bow of his head before motioning to the chairs across from him. “Come, sit! We have much to discuss.”

“What is there to say?” The young boy scoffed, still remaining glued in his spot. He felt naked without his crossbow at his side. “Either I murder the man, or you kill _him_ , right?” The response was a small hum, but no words of denial. “Exactly. So why pretend that there’s any love between us, Ombra? You’ve caught me, I concede. I’ll become your Silver Prince, murder the King… so long as you swear to me that no harm will become him, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Marshall…” Bubba breathed, as if pained by the very word.

Teal eyes turned toward him, a frown on the younger’s face. “What choice do I have?” A sad smile slowly crawled across his lips, then. “I won’t lose you.”

The words that followed were unsaid, yet they hung between the two men as if they had been whispered between them.

_And I won’t let you lose me again._

“I will see to it that your… friend, is unharmed,” Ombra informed. He must have finally realized they were not going to join him as he lifted himself from his chair and approached, his shoulders stiff. “You may have the day to rest while I make arrangements. Tonight, we strike.”

The men outside seemed to have taken his words as the end of their conversation, because they entered to lead them away only moments later. The young teen spared one last glance toward the large general before they were led away.

* * *

The small, stone house they were offered was heavily guarded at every entrance. There was little more than a fireplace, dining table, couch, and a bed, with a bathroom and closet door off to one side. Despite all this, the décor was extravagant, made up of royal blues and silvers – the colors they had declared for their ‘Silver Prince’.

Bubba was silent as the dark-haired boy fell onto the sofa, dropping his head into his hands. After a few moments of stillness between them, the pinkish-haired man approached, falling into the seat beside him.

“You didn’t have to,” The older mumbled, reaching out to rest a hand on his companion’s back.

“I did,” Marshall replied, lifting his eyes to meet the violet ones of the other. “And I don’t regret it.”

“They’ll use you…” Came the response as the taller man frowned, his fingers moving until they were brushing black locks from teal eyes, before resting on a pale cheek. “You’re nothing but a puppet to them, Marshall. A bridge to the palace, so they can storm in and take over. And then what? They pull your strings until every last Celestial is dead…?”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe,” The younger mumbled, placing his hand on top of the other’s. “Then I will gladly become a puppet.”

Violet orbs grew sad, tears brushing over light-colored lashes. The words that spilled from his lips shot pain straight through the dark-haired boy’s chest, settling deep in his heart. “Marshall Lee…”

Silence stretched between them for a few moments. A simple pair of words, yet they were a deep-seeded reminder that he wasn’t _him_. He wasn’t the man that was truly wanted… he wasn’t the very reason the other had come to this world.

He wasn’t Marshall Lee. He was…

“It’s just Marshall,” The shorter boy found himself mumbling as he got to his feet. He crossed the room, not quite caring where he was so long as he wasn’t _there_. So long as he wasn’t beside Bubba, a constant reminder of whom he _wasn’t_.

“I didn’t mean…” His companion offered, only to fall silent a moment later. What more was there to say, after all? They both knew the dynamic between them and they’d both chosen to ignore it. Now that it was in the air it was suffocating, choking down each of their throats and forcing them to hold back a gag.

After a few moments, the young teen finally shrugged his jacket off, the heat starting to be too much. He removed the food from his pockets and tossed it onto the dining table, letting it lay amongst the various other offerings.

Despite how heated his jacket had made him, his heart felt cold. There was a sick feeling deep in his stomach and he wondered if he would be able to keep down his meager meal from earlier. How becoming of a Prince, he supposed, to throw up all over the floor of his temporary home.

Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder, turning him around to face the taller man who had pushed his way into his heart in less than a day. Violet eyes met teal as the older gazed at him with a pained expression.

“I don’t want you to be him,” Bubba whispered, reaching up to cup the dark-haired boy’s face in his hands. “I care about _you_. And yes, maybe you have his face, but you are a different person. I _know_ that.”

“You wouldn’t care about me if I didn’t have his face,” The younger muttered. Despite his best efforts, he felt his cold heart warm once more as the other spoke, empty words filling him deep inside. “You wouldn’t even _be_ here.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be here,” Came the quiet response as their foreheads were pressed together. “But I would still care about you.”

There was no response, bright eyes peering up at the older man silently. He wanted so badly to trust those words… yet there was something in the pit of his stomach that told him not to give in, not to have hope. He was a puppet, a slave to the slaves, and to Bubba he was nothing but a replacement for a man long gone.

Yet for some reason, he found himself pressing his lips against the other’s once again.

He was pulled into gentle arms, the kiss breaking only a few moments later and his forehead cradled against a warm neck. For some time they simply stood there, Bubba holding him gently in his arms. Fingers gently stroked his hair, a simple enough action yet it left his shoulders relaxed and his worries eased if only for a small moment.

So weird, how just one touch from this stranger made him feel like nothing could hurt him again.

* * *

All good things had to end eventually, he supposed.

It had been easy enough to enter the castle through the underground waterway. From there, an in-house spy (a fan on the crystal side, apparently) snuck them in the palace walls. He was a high general, head of the King’s army – a man named Engel - yet for some reason he was helping them to murder his lord…

Some people were just odd.

There were Shades practically lining the walls, peering out from the stonework to see them as they passed by. They were a group of at least fifty, with more ready to attack if need be. Marshall marched just behind Ombra, with Bubba somewhere in the back (as ‘motivation’, to make sure things didn’t go like last time).

Engel had informed them that the King knew of their arrival about half way to their destination, but it seemed Ombra had expected this. Perhaps he’d even been counting on it.

As they stepped up to the throne room doors, the Onyx general turned toward him, laying a strong hand on his shoulder. “It all comes down to this,” He informed. “You will enter alone and you will speak to him alone. He is expecting you. He will try to persuade you to join him, no doubt, but you will not. Should he order an attack, you are to take out his men.”

“I understand,” Marshall replied, inwardly remembering Bubba’s words earlier that day. A puppet, indeed.

“Good boy,” The large man replied, patting his cheek like a fond pet before he placed a hand on his back and nudged him toward the door.

Trying his best not to spare a glance back to the group behind him – to look for a head of light hair amongst the dark – the young boy sucked in a deep breath and pushed the doors open.

The throne room was decorated in crystal statues of previous kings, a long red carpet leading up to a pale blue crystal throne. Upon it sat a tall man with platinum hair and a finely trimmed beard (a trait only Celestials held), his shoulders broad but his face unmistakably similar to Marshall’s own.

The rows of guards that lined the room immediately drew their swords. The dark-haired boy had to say he was impressed; he had always assumed the crystal side had Shades to serve as their army men, yet every man that stood before him had the pale hair of a Celestial. Just the fact that they had it in them to raise a sword without it being handed to them was impressive.

“Lower your weapons,” The man seated upon the throne called, lifting his head, his crown made of gold with crystals imbedded shining in the moonlight that spilled in through the large windows. “You will show more respect for his Highness, Marshall of house Aingeal, son of Eadrom, _Prince_ of Elysium.”

Eyeing their King nervously after his booming words, the guards slowly replaced their weapons, before lowering themselves to one knee, bowing to the dark-haired boy before them.

“Your Majesty,” The boy mumbled, lowering himself as well, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.

He had never before laid eyes on his ‘father’ and in all honesty, artistic renderings had done the man no justice. Like most Celestials, his age meant nothing, his features free of the signs of maturity. He had a strong jaw, but his teal eyes were a rarity amongst his kind and they had been unmistakably passed down to his ‘heir’, who knelt before him.

“Rise,” King Eadrom stated and immediately the young man lifted himself from the marble floor. “Come forward, my dear. Let me get a look at you.”

His shoulders tense, Marshall began to approach the man he had been brought there to kill. A heavy cloak wrapped around his shoulders, his crossbow concealed beneath it and his quiver around his shoulder, the boy found himself feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.

Only once before had he used his abilities to slaughter so many men at once and it had been years ago. The more he aged, the more it seemed that his powers harmed him, if his loss of consciousness alongside Bubba had been any indication. He wasn’t sure he could take down so many men without seriously harming himself.

“You have your mother’s face,” The blonde-haired man sighed as his ‘son’ stopped at the foot of the steps before him. He lifted himself from his throne, but did not approach. “I remember her quite well, actually… Hansan, she was called, of course you know that already. And you, Marshall… Horse keeper. Such an unbecoming name for a Prince.”

“I’m quite fond of it,” The dark-haired boy informed, rather coldly.

“But of course,” Eadrom stated with an air of friendliness. “Your mother gave it to you. Although, from what I’ve heard…” He hummed lightly, a devious look in his teal eyes. “She was not fond of you and you held no love for her, as well.”

“Rumors stretch as far as the King’s ears, do they?” Marshall replied stiffly, his body tensing even more as the other began to descend the steps and approach him.

“You really do have my eyes,” The man stated almost fondly as he reached forward and placed a hand on the pale boy’s cheek. “There is no mistaking it… not that there ever was.” He caught his heir’s gaze with his own, truth in his expression, though what to make of it the boy didn’t know. “I have never once denied your existence, Marshall, despite what you might hear. Do you know why I never took a wife, never tried for another heir?” His hand came around to grab the back of the dark-haired boy’s neck in an intense grip. “Because _you_ are my son. _You_ are the heir to this throne.”

Frowning, the teen gaze at his father, his chest fluttering. All of those years growing up, his mother had done nothing but show distain for him every day. Until he’d met Bubba, he had never known the affections of another, save for the empty adoration of those who called him King.

But for some reason, this man before him… his _father_ , offered him words of fondness with honest eyes and a strong grip.

Empty words, of course.

 _He’s lying to you_ , his inner voice reminded. _He knows you intend to kill him, so he tells you lies._ And they were smart words, words he stayed true to as he offered no response to the other.

Eventually, Eadrom pulled back, his face stern. “Lay down your weapon,” He called. “And I can offer you what no one else can… knowledge, power… a hand to wait on your every whim. Anything you desire.” His eyes were alight with passion as he peered upon his son.

“There’s nothing you can offer me,” Marshall informed with an expressionless face.

The man’s gaze narrowed a fraction, but his son didn’t miss it. “I know you care nothing for the cause you come here for. What did they do to force you? Do they have something of yours? …A girl, perhaps?” A grin crossed his lips as the boy’s teal eyes narrowed. “Ah, so that’s it. You think my men couldn’t save her? She could be your queen, someday.” He reached out once more, to lay his hand on his son again. “And you, her King…”

Swallowing down his disgust, the dark-haired boy took a step back, pushing his cloak away and lifting his crossbow. “I will have no queen,” He informed, coldly. “Like father, like son, they say.”

Before the teen could blink, there was a loud _clank!_ and his crossbow dropped from his hands in pieces. Eadrom lifted his sword, the shining steel malicious as he peered down at his son.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Marshall of Aingeal,” He practically hissed. “Join my side, or die by my hand.”

Teal eyes narrowed, his son lifted a hand, reaching for the clasp of his cloak. In one swift movement it dropped from his shoulders, pooling at his ankles. “You say the rumors on the streets make their ways into the ears of kings…” His fingers began to twitch at his sides as power pulsed through his body and his hair began to rustle, lifting from his dirt-stained face as behind him, one by one, the arrows started to rise from the quiver. They formed a circle above him, a sort of iron and wood halo, earning gasps from the men around him. “Then you must know that a mere wooden toy isn’t my only weapon.”

“Guards-!” The man gasped, but it was a moment too late. As the men pulled their swords their king fell, an arsenal of arrows in his chest. Within seconds the doors had been thrown open and the Shades stormed in, surrounding him as the world spun around him.

“Lower your weapons!” High General Engel cried toward his men, who gazed at him in open confusion. “Bow before your new King!”

“S-sir…” A man breathed, as if horrified by the very idea.

“You heard King Eadrom!” The Celestial General cried as he pointed a hand toward Marshall. “He himself declared this boy his heir! We are all witnesses! Now bow before him, Marshall Aingeal, son of Eadrom, _King_ of Elysium!”

As the confused guards slowly lowered their weapons and began to kneel, the light-haired leader turned toward the teen and dropped to his knee, his hand across his chest.

“Your Grace,” He breathed as the Shades began to kneel as well. “I, Engel of Speir, General of the late King Eadrom, swear my undying loyalty to you. May your reign be long and your health be everlasting.”

There was a moment of stillness as the dark-haired boy gazed upon the men before him, feeling light-headed and yet heavy. One burden had been dropped from his shoulders only to be replaced by an entire _kingdom_ full of them, the expectations surrounding his reign fresh in his mind after years of trying to avoid them.

“That boy is no king!” Someone in the crowd called as the men began to rise, looking around.

“Who dares make a claim of treason!?” Engel shrieked. “Traitor!”

“You are the traitor and you dishonor the house of Speir!” The same voice called, the sound reflecting off of all of the crystal, seeming to come from all directions. “You betray your king and have him slain in the name of a _Shade_! You should be beheaded and your body thrown to the wolves!”

No one dared to agree with the man, the armored men all gazing around to see who had spoken. They weren’t expecting movement, however, and were suddenly alert as a form pushed from the shadows and rushed at Marshall, sword in his hands.

“For Elysium!” The man cried as he thrust his blade forward, only to gasp as the steel met not the heart of the Silver Prince, but the chest of a light-haired man dressed in a heavy fur jacket.

The room was still once more as blood began to pour from the parted lips of Bubba, his eyes glossy. In an instant, the man who had wielded the blade was beheaded and his sword pulled from the pinkish-haired man’s chest.

Their King reached out, catching his friend in his arms as he fell, both of them slipping to the ground in an unbecoming heap.

“B-Bubba…” the younger wheezed, barely noticing the tears freely spilling down his cheeks.

“I don’t… think I ever told you…” Came a choked whisper, the light in his eyes already fading as he stretched a hand up to rest it gently on Marshall’s cheek. “But… in my world, I was a Prince… and you were a King…”

“I can’t be King without you!” The dark-haired boy wailed, his fingers shaking as he laid his own hand over the taller man’s. “Please… don’t leave me!”

“Y-you know… it’s funny…” Bubba breathed so quietly that it was nearly impossible to hear him, blood slipping from his lips like a small creek. “I-I’d heard that… that Prismo’s wishes a-always…” He gasped, squeezing his violet eyes shut. “A-always came with an… ironic twist.”

Marshall felt the pit of his stomach tighten as those eyes opened once more to gaze at him, already long gone.

“I guess my twist was that…” The dying man whispered, his lips curling into an empty smile. “Now I’m the one… who dies…”

As the last of the words slipped from his mouth, Bubba’s head dropped to the side and he died in the arms of the man who he had come to love twice.

The man who loved him in two separate worlds.


	4. The push

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally realized that in uploading the last chapter of this, I had cut it off half-way.
> 
> So here we have the ACTUAL last chapter! . _.

“Can’t you save him!?” The young King shrieked to his people as they gazed upon the scene in sorrowful confusion. “Someone, please- _anyone_! Do _something_!”

“I’m sorry, your grace,” Engel whispered as the teenager knelt in the blood of his fallen loved one. “We cannot save the dead.”

The young boy’s breath was shaky, his expression one of devastation. They all stared at him with looks of sympathy, even those that thought to defy him… even the Celestials looked sad, an expression he’d never thought to see on the tanned face of a crystal side man.

Beneath him, Bubba’s blood was still warm, his body hot against his. His dead eyes were open, seeing nothing… wishing for nothing and wanting nothing. Eyes that had seen him, not as the man he once was, but as who he was now.

Not as Marshall Lee… but as Marshall.

But what did that matter now? The man from another world was dead and gone, bundled up in the arms of the Silver Prince, the savior of all.

Yet he couldn’t save the one person he had grown to care about.

Slowly, the King let his face fall into the chest of the dead stranger, his shoulders shaking as a single sob left his lips.

Some half-ling he was, if he couldn’t even use his crystal side to heal a loved one.

…That was right, he _was_ half Celestial, wasn’t he?

A broken frown crossed the dark-haired boy’s lips and he sat up, peering down at the form in his arms.

Half Celestial… but also half Shade. A mix of two bloods. Someone who was never meant to be… and someone who held great power.

A normal crystal side couldn’t heal a dead man…

But he was far from normal.

His bangs began to rise from his brow once more, his hair blowing around in whips as power sieged through him. The men in the room began to back away, no doubt in fear that their newfound King would destroy them all from sorrow, but he spared them no glances.

He had only thought to use this power for destruction before, but really, why couldn’t it be used to heal? Why couldn’t he mend wounds, start beating hearts…

…And bring the souls of the dead back to the world of the living?

His fingers gripped at the gaping wound and power shot through them, heat searing throughout his arm. Beneath him, he felt the cut where the blade had been begin to mend itself, the skin stitching back together, the lungs draining of blood before they healed. The other’s heart began to beat forcibly, blood starting to course through its veins once more, but… what was a living body without a soul to occupy it…?

Closing his eyes, Marshall reached out with all of his inner strength. He felt his abilities place a gentle hand on the back of his inner spirit, fingers shaking… before he pushed.

Death was painless and instantaneous, in that moment. It was warm, a gentle heat surrounding him as his vision went white. Around him, he could _feel_ the presence of many, but one by one he passed them by, searching for the one person he cared for more than anything.

Then he felt it. A hand in his own. Fingers lacing with his as a sweet smile begged him to take him home.

So he pulled

And In that very instant, that split second between death and life, he suddenly understood everything.

* * *

_The face he gazed upon for that long-lasting instant was his own, with pale blue skin and a pair of pearly fangs. There was a grin that didn’t real teal eyes, dark hair unruly and a casual slouch with tense shoulders._

_Slowly, one hand reached out, resting gently on his forehead. For a moment they stared at each other, a silent understanding falling between the two men, before his mirrored-self parted his lips and spoke with his voice._

_“Take care of him, kid.”_

_Then Marshall Lee pushed him back into life._

* * *

The room was lit well as he opened his eyes, the sun bearing in through the open shades filling the room with warmth. Yet he was shivering beneath the heavy blankets that covered his large bed, his hair drenched in sweat and his mind hazy from fever.

A hand reached out, caressing his face with a cool cloth and he knew, without even looking, who was holding it. Despite his body’s protests, he dragged his teal eyes to the side, gazing upon the blurred form that sat at his bedside, a bowl of cool water in his lap.

“Welcome back,” Bubba addressed fondly, his own face colored with _life_ , a look the dark-haired man hadn’t thought he would see again.

“…What happened?” Marshall found himself asking. He knew what he had _tried_ to do, yet it seemed impossible, even with the proof before his eyes.

The older man let out a slow breath, removing the cool cloth from the other’s forehead and letting his shoulders fall. It seemed the story wasn’t fresh to him, from his reactions. “I don’t know,” He admitted freely. “But I can tell you what I was told.” With a nod from the boy on the bed, he took in a deep breath. It seemed to be a long story. “Before the eyes of everyone in that room…I died, after being stabbed by the man who meant to kill you.

“While you were crying and holding me, you suddenly started to glow with golden light, surrounding you like a halo. Suddenly, my wounds began to heal and I began to breathe again… and then I opened my eyes and caught you as you fell.” Pursing his lips for a moment, Bubba turned his gaze back to the young man beneath the covers. “Well… the men tell the story more elegantly, but I figured you’d want the shortened version.”

“I appreciate it,” Marshall replied, moving to push the blankets from himself only to pause as the other laid a hand on his chest to stop him.

“There’s more,” The older informed with an intense gaze, stopping his friend’s protests instantly. “The war between Celestial and Shade has ended…” Dark eyebrows shot up and the pink-haired man let out a slow breath. “They’ve laid down their weapons and their differences, agreed to the release of all slaves… Since you were able to bring me back from the dead, they’ve come to the conclusion that you are Naofa, Goddess of life, in mortal form. They’ve all declared loyalty to you and your rule.”

“…I’m Naofa?” The younger boy whispered, his breath airy. He wasn’t an incredibly religious man, but he had always prayed to Naofa after making a clean kill when hunting, as was customary of Shades.

“And you are King,” Bubba informed.

Letting out a slow breath, the dark-haired teen leaned back against the pillows, his eyes drifting upwards. A Silver Prince, he could handle… even a King was within reason, but a mortal Goddess? Never mind that he was a man, he didn’t want people gazing upon him with awe, wondering if he could save their loved ones as well.

“You almost killed yourself,” The pinkish-haired man informed, placing the cold cloth back on Marshall’s forehead.

“I _did_ kill myself,” The younger man retorted, stopping the other’s movements. “Then I came back and I brought you with me.”

The only response he got was a soft, pained breath, and he felt his heart skip. Perhaps the wrong thing to have said to a man still mourning his loved one’s death, in hindsight.

The dark-haired boy let his teal eyes close, feeling a weight fall on his shoulders. The moments of enjoyment were over and would be few and far between, from now on. He was a King and now supposed _God_ amongst people. He had a duty to attend to from now on.

“How long was I out?” He mumbled, wondering just how serious his fever was. It felt bad, perhaps the worst he’d ever had, but before he’d never had any medication or Celestial healing to deal with them. A thought occurred to him, then, and he found himself frowning. “And why haven’t I been healed…?”

“The best Celestial healers tried to nurse you back to health, from what I understand,” Bubba hummed, pulling the cloth away to rest a hand against the King’s forehead. “But they were unable. You’ve been out nearly seven days, now. Engel was sure you wouldn’t wake at all.”

“Who has been running the kingdom?” Marshall asked, realizing he had never named a King’s Right (well, in his case it _should_ have been the King’s Left, since he was left handed) to take over in his absence.

There was a moment of silence before the pink-haired man let out a slow breath. “I have.”

Teal eyes snapped to him in shock, their owner completely caught off-guard by the answer. He found himself gaping at his friend, confusion etched on his flushed features. “You?”

A small laugh left the older man as he reached forward, laying the cool cloth upon the King’s brow once more. “I told you that I was a Prince before, didn’t I? I know how to rule a kingdom. And your people have decided that since I was brought back to life by the ‘great Naofa’, I’ve been blessed.”

“That’s right, you did say that, didn’t you…” The other mumbled, letting his eyes slip closed as he let the moment wash over him. This would be the last seconds of innocence between the two of them… the last instant he had to pretend.

It was time to let the truth be told.

“You told me you were a Prince,” Marshall repeated. “…But you didn’t say anything about being made of sugar.”

Bubba’s smile fell instantly, his fingers tightening on the cloth he held.

“There’s a lot of memories,” The King breathed, his voice heavy. “But from what I can remember… Prismo’s wishes create new worlds. Alternative realities for those who have wished them. So… if it weren’t for your wish, Prince Bubba Gumball… this world wouldn’t exist.” He turned, his teal eyes catching the other’s violet ones. “And neither would I.”

“Marshall…” The other strained, pulling the cold cloth away.

“I’m not him… Well, I should say, I’m _still_ not him,” The dark-haired boy strained as he forced himself to sit up a bit, leaning back against the extravagant headboard of what he assumed was the King’s bed. “But he came to me and he gave me everything. I remember everything he does. Every moment you shared with him, everything he ever felt… I know that he loved you, even if he didn’t like to say it.” Bubba gazed at him painfully, tears brimming on his lashes. “And I know how he felt about life, but… I don’t feel any of those things.” The violet-eyed man sucked in a deep breath at those words and Marshall swallowed a painful lump in his throat. “I don’t want to die. I want to live. And I don’t want to be Marshall Lee… I just want to be Marshall.”

The other moved slowly, replacing the cold cloth in the bowl and setting it beside his chair at his feet. With cold hands he reached forward, cupping the teen’s face and gazing into his teal eyes with a gentle, caring expression.

“Perhaps my wish is what caused this world to exist,” He addressed and now that the dark-haired King realized it, this stranger really did have a royal air about him. “But it is still very real and you are still _very_ much a different person, Marshall. I don’t expect you to be, nor do I _want_ you to be him. You are unique… your very own person and I would never ask you to try to be someone you’re not for me.”

The teenager suddenly felt very small, gazing into the eyes of a man who had lived for decades with a face of youth. Bubba was wise beyond years that he could not even fathom, even with these new founded memories.

“Honestly, I had hoped you would never have his memories,” The pinkish-haired man admitted gently, running a hand through the young King’s hair. “Because I’ve come to care about you for _you_ , not for your face.”

“Do you really mean that?” The ill-flushed boy mumbled, hating how hopeful he sounded.

Slowly, the other leaned in and pressed gentle lips against his forehead. “I really mean that,” He conceded softly, before he moved to ease the boy back into the blankets. “Now rest, Your Majesty. I will take care of the rest.”

With a slow smile creeping across his lips, Marshall slowly let his eyes slip shut.

He hoped to never dream of Marshall Lee again and knew in time he would be nothing but a distant memory for both himself and the man he had come to care for.

 _Watch over him, okay?_ A whisper said into the dark-haired King’s ear as he fell into a restful slumber. There was a smirk, then, a pair of fangs behind pale blue lips. _And give him the happy ending I never did. The one he deserves._

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of things don't make sense at the moment, but they will all be explained!


End file.
